


A Shadow Still Remaining

by crossthesky



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2019-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-02 13:10:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13318827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossthesky/pseuds/crossthesky
Summary: Lust was more than willing to make another unholy bargain in exchange for the things she wanted.  But as she had no soul of her own to sell, she sold Scar's instead.  One way or another, they'd be together.





	1. Unholy Bargain

The stone chapel was silent. The air was still and heavy, no draft stirring the dust or the thick velvet curtains that hung against stained glass windows that looked out onto nothing. Lust’s soft boots made no sound on the worn stone floor. Small puffs of dust rose at her footfalls. She felt small and humbled in this silent place, the stone faces of dead and forgotten saints watching her with eyes both hard and accusatory. 

She paused before the alter. A moth-eaten alter cloth was thrown across it, once red and gold it was now brown and yellow. Muted candlesticks stood at either end, thick wax clinging to the old gold from candles that had burned down centuries before Lust was born. She knelt, dust and something thick and brackish clinging to her dress as her knees rested against the stone floor.

Still she didn’t speak. She couldn’t bring herself to break the silence. It wrapped around her like a shroud and filled the abandoned house of god. Her eyes dropped from the alter, finally, and fell to the grotesque thing that lay before it. Her violet eyes narrowed in puzzlement, and she searched the writhing mass of muscle and tissue for any hint of humanity. There was none, only pulsing organs and blood-filled veins spiraling through the arches and caverns of malformed flesh.

“Here.” Lust’s voice was barely a whisper. She opened her hand and held out a palm full of red stones, offering it to the newly born homunculus. She watched in morbid fascination as the thing twisted and flexed, a limb that could have born resemblance to an arm and hand stretching out to take the stones from her. Had Sloth been so malformed and inhuman?

“There we are.” Her voice was still hushed. Lips turned down in a thoughtful frown, Lust reached out her hand to touch the thing. She ran gloved fingers over one misshapen ridge of flesh, recoiling some as the thing shuddered under her touch. She made soft soothing noises and continued to stroke it, fingers passing over gnarled lumps of bone and crooked twists of joint and sinew.

“And how is our new Greed doing?”

Lust leapt to her feet at the voice behind her, harsh and echoing in the silent stillness of the chapel. The thing before the alter convulsed and made some rasping noise, and Lust frowned, wanting to return to stroking it and soothing it.

“Fine, Master,” Lust said, lowering her head in respect for the diminutive woman.

“Good, good.” The master approached, her short hair swishing about her chin. She looked down at the newly formed homunculus with curious eyes. “He’s coming along nicely.”

“How long before he…?”

“Resembles something fit for polite company?” The master laughed, a high and light sound. She crouched down and held out her hand and Lust wanted to slap it away. He was hers. “Give him time. He’s not even a few days old. You grew rather slowly yourself.”

Lust nodded, tightly. She was tired of waiting. But it was with fondness and pity that she looked upon the malformed mass of flesh that was a fresh homunculus. Soon. Soon he would be fully formed. Soon she would have what she had longed for, dreamed of in the deepest part of her soulless heart. 

“Keep a close eye on him, Lust,” the master went on, and Lust knew there was mocking in the woman’s voice. “We’d hate for him to follow in the footsteps of his predecessor.”

Lust only nodded, and once the master had left the chapel one more, she sat on the steps before the alter and eased the twitching new homunculus into her lap, stroking his knotted flesh and humming soft tunes she half-remembered from another life.

***

Lust took him out of the chapel as soon as he had legs with which to walk. He was silent and meek, his first steps wobbling and hesitant as he leaned against her shoulder. His skin was still slick and pink, bones moving beneath it in frightening clear patterns. But he was human-shaped now, and Lust eased him into the simple bed she had prepared with a soft sigh. He couldn’t speak yet, but violet his eyes moved about the room in searching patterns. Even now, so early, she could see the intelligence behind them.

He would be powerful. There were no remains to weaken him, his body long gone without a trace. Lust threaded her fingers through his hair - two toned, even now, black upon white. Above his eyes, where once there had been the dead white skin of his trademark scar, was the spherical red symbol of the homunculus.

Greed. It was easy enough to call him that name. She had never known his name in life, and the former Greed had been a fleeting idea before his violent death. Lust perched on the edge of the bed and brushed back a bit of the black hair that clung in damp swaths to his forehead. She searched his face critically, seeking any hint of the man she had loved in Lior. There were traces, small and unremarkable, but they were there.

_Give him time_. Lust sighed and stroked the still-forming features of his cheeks, and he leaned into her touch. So new, so fresh, he would be what she made him to be. He belonged to her, not to her master. And she would mold him in the shape of his human self. She had no regrets over what she had done, felt no shame in throwing herself at her master’s feet and begging for the scarred man to be returned to her. And she felt no sorrow over sacrificing some poor alchemist in the process. She had made a deal with the devil and she knew that. But it would be all right. Once he was whole, once he was strong, no alchemist in the world would hold power over them. The hateful woman who called herself their master would have no choice but to use the stone to make them human. And then they could be together. And even if something went wrong, even then, they were still together.

“Remember,” she hissed, leaning close to him. “Remember Ishbal. Remember the fall of the desert city. Remember your brother. Remember me.”

***

“You.”

It was one word, spoken low and in harsh tones. It snapped Lust out of her reverie, and she turned her head to watch the man in the bed with lightening quickness. Before now he had made only small, wordless sounds. His eyes were open and he was looking at her, confusion and frustration creasing the porcelain white skin of his brow.

“What is it?” She reached for him, running her fingers over his cool skin. He was pale and cold, a corpse that spoke and breathed and thought.

“You,” he repeated, closing his eyes as though in pain. “I remember…”

“I know.” Lust ran her fingers through his hair. “Don’t fight the memories.” The master was not here to dismiss them, to smooth the lingering memories of life away into nothingness. Lust had made certain of that.

“Where am I? What is this…?”

“That doesn’t matter.” Lust shook her head. There was no time for that. The master would come by shortly, and Lust needed to know how much of him was left. “Tell me what you remember.”

“The desert. Gunfire. You….”

“Good.” She smiled, leaning over him and stroking his hair. That was enough. She could coax more memories from him. “Tell no one else, do you understand? Tell no one but me what it is you remember.”

“I can’t remember anything else….”

“I know. It’s much too soon. You were dead, but I brought you back. But you have to remember. Remember Ishbal. Remember Lior.”

He stared at her with uncomprehending eyes. She could see him struggling, trying to make sense of what she told him. Lust only smiled and pressed her lips to the oroborus upon his brow, as she had so longed to kiss his scar. 

“You’ll understand in time,” she promised him, drawing back as she heard footsteps in the hallway outside. “Just try and remember.”

“Lust? Attend to Gluttony, please.” Their master swept into the room, her small face upturned in superiority. “I’ll take care of our new Greed, now that he‘s joined us among the living.”

_I don’t doubt you will._ But Lust nodded and withdrew, hoping that she had planted the seeds deeply enough that their master’s words wouldn’t wash them away.

***

It was days before Lust saw him again. She was sent forth once more to trail the Elrics, but she lost them in the maze of small farming towns that surrounded Central. She had no desire to find them anyway, not yet. She had more work to do with the new Greed, to ensure that no matter happened, he would be as close as possible to the man she had followed and wanted for so long.

She returned to the citadel beneath Central, Gluttony on her heels. The portly sin was quiet and needy, sensing that Lust’s attentions had been diverted from him to the newest member of their little family. She left him with Pride, trying to ignore the distressed noises he made as she took her leave. 

Despite the fact that Lust needed no sleep, she had a room just the same. They all did. Small touches of human life, desperate attempts to fill the void that consumed them. She spent her free time among heavy red velvet curtains and stately old furniture. She hated it all. But her mind was on things other than the cursed furnishings of the tower room that she had claimed as her own. She stood before the gilded mirror that hung on her wall, eyeing herself critically.

She saw him before she heard him, catching his reflection behind her. She stared into the depths of the mirror, half-afraid to turn. His broad shoulders were set firmly, tense beneath the black leather shirt he now wore. His eyes were narrowed, his lips were turned down in an all-too-familiar scowl. Even as pale and inhuman as he now looked, he was still Scar. 

“Our Master sent me to you,” he said, and Lust finally turned. She hated those words from his lips.

“Did she?” Lust raised her eyebrows. “Would you have sought me out on your own, I wonder?”

He didn’t answer her. Lust read the lines of his body to glean some hint from him, but found nothing but traces of his humanity. His pose was rebellious, his eyes were angry and violent, and even now the paler skin and black leather couldn’t erase the savage strength that the desert had marked him with. Lust moved towards him, drawn as though by a string. He remained still as she approached, wary as a wild thing. As wary of her as he had always been.

“And do you still remember me?” she asked, pausing before him. He only nodded, a tense jerk of his head. Lust reached out to him, feeling as though she were in a dream. He was here, standing before her, flesh and blood and bone. And he was unresisting as she put her arms around him and pressed her lips to cold, dead skin. She kissed him fiercely, as though she could draw from him his memories with her lips. His arms went around her in a crushing grip, pulling her flush against his hard body. He was cold as glass at first, so different from when his skin had burned beneath her touch. She molded herself to him, her hands clinging to his shoulders. 

Perhaps this was the only way she could have him; entwined together in sin and half-life. He held her to him brutally, as though he were worried that she would slip away. She imagined that she could still feel the burn of his sun-kissed skin.

“Remember,” she urged, breaking their kiss and burying her face against his leather-clad shoulder. “You have to remember!” The same words he had once given to her, in the empty streets of Lior. She pressed her lips to his neck, tasting ice and fire. 

“I do remember,” he hissed angrily, and his arms tightened about her with a painful desperation. And something inside of Lust twisted and broke, and she sank bonelessly against him. Now she felt guilt. Now she felt regret. She had been selfish and childish, and as foolish as every alchemist she had ever chided for daring to commit the greatest taboo. It spiraled through her like a blade, ripping her inside. What had she done?

“I’m…sorry.” She choked the words out through anger and remorse, but still she held on to him, even now unwilling to let him go. She wanted him still.

He laughed. It was a bitter, cruel sound. He gripped her shoulders and pulled her away, forcing her to look at him. She watched his eyes, violet and cat slitted, and there was something familiar there. Something that called back to the man she had fallen in love with, the man she had risked everything for. The man who she had doomed to this pathetic shadow of humanity.

“Don’t,” he told her roughly, a harsh order that surprised her. His hand came up to cup her cheek, a gentle gesture that starkly contrasted his cruel words. “Don’t be sorry,“ he went on, fingers curling against her cheek savagely. “It’s nothing more than I deserve.”


	2. Chapter Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On their first mission together, Lust tries to quell doubts about her decision and Scar's assurances. Vague adult content near the end.

Every little backwater, out of the way village may as well have been the same backwater, out of the way village. They all more or less blurred into one in Lust's mind. She stood in an empty barn, watching the flecks of dust in the angled shaft of a beam of late afternoon sun. They looked gold - a trick of the light. A trick she'd seen time and time again. Why did the light look the same everywhere? Idly, she extended her lance-like talons and passed them through the light, stirring and swirling the little specks of bright gold. She repeated the motion, watching them dance with a faint smile curving up the corners of her mouth.

"That won't make time pass any faster."

Lust's eyes cut to the side, small smile fading to a frown. He was sitting on a dried and forgotten bale of hay, staring at the floor. He was deep in shadow, the pale cast of his skin starkly visible but oddly haunting in the gloom. He seemed a part of the darkness. It was the first time he'd spoken more than a word since they'd holed up here to wait till nightfall. He didn't talk much. Even to her. He was just a silent, hulking presence - like the shadow of a mountain.

"No, but it satisfies an impulse." Of what, Lust couldn't say. She wasn't usually restless like this - it was him. Something about his silent, unreadable visage unsettled her. Was he ready for this? Was his silence some internal guilt over being sent out for the first time by their master? He'd expressed no distaste or qualms, simply accepted his orders with a grunt and followed directions with no deviation. Or comment.

Which was all he offered in response to her, simply a wordless sound to acknowledge he'd heard her.

"God knows it's hard to pull myself away from your stimulating conversation," she continued, beginning to pace the empty barn. It was in disrepair, and every now and then the wind would rattle loose boards and blow a scatter of dried leaves and dust balls across the floor. It was a sad place.

"We aren't here to talk."

They weren't here for anything, really. Lust was no fool, they were just being sent out of the way. As useful as Scar was - Lust refused to call him by any other name in her own mind - he was still new, still untested and a possible liability. And she supposed so was she, in her way. So here they were, at the edges of what passed for civilization this far out from Central, for no better reason than robbing some local alchemist's private library. It wasn't a two person job, just slipping in and slipping out. Oh, there was probably something useful in there, but it was clearly beneath either of their skills. No, this was busy work so they wouldn't be under foot or cause any trouble. Perhaps their master even thought she was doing them a kindness, sending them off together.

It should have been a kindness. This was what Lust had wanted, to be with him. He seemed amenable enough to that. And yet....

"You're just going to sit there until nightfall, then, like a sullen child?" Her pacing brought her to stand before him, looking down at down at his bowed head and tensed shoulders. Even sitting still and in repose there was a dangerous power evident in him.

"Not if you continue to pester me while we wait."

"I'm attempting to make conversation."

"Needling and prodding at me isn't conversation." His head moved slightly, tipping to meet her eyes. His mouth was a thin line, his expression mild but somehow dark. Lust found her arms coming up to wrap around herself, as though shielding herself from that unnerving and unnatural gaze.

"You don't give me any other options. Sometimes I wonder what in the world is wrong with you..." Though the words lost any bite they may have had as she trailed off, realizing what she was saying. His brow lifted, almost smug, the unsaid hanging between them like some gruesome specter. Lust looked away. 

It wasn't supposed to be like this. He was so cold and distant, so impossible to read or draw out of himself. At first it had seemed as all had gone according to plan, but he'd withdrawn so quickly. All that talk of accepting what he was, holding no anger towards her over it...he still seemed to wallow in his righteous guilt. Or perhaps revel in it was a better word. Like a man who whipped himself in the name of god, the pain fueling and feeding him.

This wasn't going to be the rest of the evening. Sunset was an hour or two off yet, and then it was longer till humans went to bed. 

Lust pursed her lips, still standing over him. The light was creeping across the floor and drawing closer to him. Another half an hour, perhaps, and it would fall across the muscles of his bare arm. At least the raw sculpture of his physical form hadn't changed any. Her eyes traced over his muscles before she dropped to her knees on the dirty barn floor beside him. Her hands reached for his and he made no effort to pull them away, or resist when she threaded her fingers through his.

"This is foolish, bickering like this." She wouldn't admit to _pestering_ him. But this wasn't what she wanted. "It's this place, it's a dead place."

"And we are dead things."

The words fell softly, not unkind, but striking Lust as cruel just the same. Her head tilted down and her hair fell in her eyes and that regret she'd felt when she first came to him returned. A shudder went through her and she gripped his hands more tightly, cold against cold. He had been so very warm, once. Skin like desert fire. But now...cold as death.

"The spark of life remains." Chin up now, eyes burning through the sheet of her thick hair. "The dead don't walk and speak, the dead don't feel. The dead don't want." There would be no argument. Lust wouldn't allow it. Her body surged forward and her mouth met his in a hungry demand. Her hands went to his face and he almost casually crooked an arm around her back to steady her. The hay poked through her dress to dig at her skin but the sensation wasn't unpleasant. Whatever was going on beneath Scar's stone-like surface, he responded eagerly to her attentions. There was need evident in his kiss and his arm around her tightened as her tongue explored his mouth. So very lively for a self-claimed dead thing.

The light coming in from the missing boards and weathered cracks of the loft crept across the floor as they embraced. The wind blew detritus around them and Scar pulled Lust up off the floor and into his lap. She was careful to sit sideways, like a wealthy woman on horseback, despite an almost physical need to press herself firmly against him. But that was too much, too dangerous. She hadn't slept with him yet, didn't intend to sleep with him now. _She_ had done this to him, no matter who had completed the transmutation. He was hers. Broken and grave-touched as he was, he was _hers_. She would make sure he stayed hers. 

And she could help him. She would bring him out of himself. One way or another, they would have their life together.

It was difficult to restrain herself when they were entwined like this. His hands were all over her back and in her hair, broad and strong and insistent. The friction as they moved against each other warmed their skin and gave the illusion of body heat. Time faded as they clutched at one another and Lust found herself making small noises as Scar's teeth and lips played over the white column of her throat. She could feel him against her, and he pulled her hip tight between his legs. One hand held her there, fingers gripping her upper thigh and she _could_ have pulled away but she didn't. She didn't want to. This was something that was hers and hers alone.

Maybe he was right. Maybe they were dead things, leftover remnants of the living that refused to accept their fate. But this felt like life, to her. This was all hunger and primal demand and heat. This was burning and urgency and animal instinct. Existence narrowed and clarified to nothing but Scar's hands, Scar's tongue, Scar's hardness against her hip. The gruff, low sounds he made as her nails scraped his skin. The taste of him. The light finished its journey and bathed them fully for a handful of moments before fading and leaving them to sport in the dim twilight. 

It was full dark inside the old barn when Scar gripped her particularly tight and cried out into the fall of her hair. She held him to her, his face against her, eyes closed tightly as he finished against her. Her body felt weak and trembling, as though she'd run a great many miles as fast as she possibly could. There was some unfamiliar sensation coiled in the pit of her being like an omen or secret promise. Some potential of something greater.

It would see its fruition some day, but not now. After a moment of stroking his hair and pushing the world away, Lust slipped from his arms and his lap. She stood before him one more, adjusting her dress and combing her fingers through her hair. She didn't look at him. He didn't speak.

The moment was fading already, silence and death slipping back in to fill the air between them. There was no gold in the air now, no bit of brightness cutting through the gloom. Just the dark and the empty.

"We should get into position." Lust broke the silence first and turned from where Scar sat. He grunted in response, a wordless sound of acknowledgement, before rising to join her.

There was no further conversation for the remainder of the night.


End file.
